“Rude,” Elijah said, shrugging off his coat. “Also understandable.”
Michael stood to hug us both, his dark beard fuller than the last time I’d seen him. “Been waiting fifteen minutes. Some of us have early mornings.”
“Some of us have excuses,” I replied, sliding into the chair across from him. Elijah took the seat beside me, close enough that our knees bumped under the table.
“Snow slowed us down.” Elijah eased back in his chair. “Sammy walks like a penguin in winter. Just don’t ask him to pull any sleighs unless you want him insulted.”
“Traitor,” I muttered, but there was no heat behind it.
Settling into my chair felt like a deep exhale. Our coffee sessions had become sacred over the past two years. A chance to decompress, catch up, and remind myself that my social circle extended beyond work colleagues and my impossibly gorgeous roommate.
A server brought our usuals without asking—a latte for me, black coffee for Elijah. Perks of being regulars.
“So how’s your mom doing?” Elijah asked Michael. “Surgery go okay?”
“Hip replacement went smooth. She’s already complaining about physical therapy, which means she’s fine.” Michael stirred his drink, the spoon clinking against ceramic. “Dad's driving her crazy hovering, so really everything's back to normal.”
“Give her our best,” I said.
“Will do. She asks about you guys constantly. Pretty sure she likes you more than me.”
Fraser jumped in before I could respond. “Speaking of unconditional love, Daisy learned a new trick this week.”
“Please tell me it’s not another video,” Michael groaned.
“It’s absolutely another video.” Fraser was already pulling out his phone, swiping through his camera roll. “Look at this face. Tell me this isn’t the cutest thing you've ever seen.”
On screen, a Pomeranian the color of butterscotch sat on a kitchen floor, one paw raised in what might generously be called a wave. Fraser beamed like a proud parent at a piano recital.
“That's a cotton ball with eyes,” I said.
“She’s a purebred Pomeranian, you heathen.”
“A purebred cotton ball.”
Fraser clutched his chest in mock offense while Michael laughed. Elijah shook his head, that familiar half-smile playing at his lips.
Then his shoulder pressed against mine as he leaned in to watch the video. Warm and solid. Completely normal for friends who sat this close. Nothing to read into. Nothing at all.
When I glanced up, I found him watching me. Not the phone. Me. A soft smile played at the corners of his mouth, something private in his expression that made my chest tight.
I smiled back. Looked away. Studied my latte like it contained the secrets of the universe. It was just Elijah being Elijah, friendly and warm and utterly oblivious to the damage he caused.
I was completely hopeless and apparently belonged to the self-torture club. A card-carrying member for the past five years.
Pause the pining and enjoy time with your friends.
The bell above the door chimed, followed by a brief sweep of cold air, before the door swung shut again. I wouldn't have looked up except Fraser's expression shifted, his easy smile freezing into something careful.
Bernard stood in the entrance.
Even from across the room, I could see the tension in his shoulders, the hard set of his jaw. Dark eyes scanned the coffee shop until they landed on our table. On Elijah.
The temperature in the room seemed to drop.
“Elijah.” Bernard’s voice cut through the ambient noise. “We need to talk.”
Beside me, Elijah went still. Not in surprised, I realized. Resigned. “There’s nothing left for us to discuss.”
